


A Penny For A Thought Isn't Enough When You're Dead

by Bisexual_Fangirl_Forever



Series: Rainbow Tomato [31]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Blood, Brought to you by my anxiety!, Character Death, Coughing, Gen, Ghosts, God I feel like crap, Grim Reapers, Help, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have like a whole au now, It is 3 am help, M/M, My continue after Legends Never Die, Not Beta Read, Sick Character, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, coughing up blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Fangirl_Forever/pseuds/Bisexual_Fangirl_Forever
Summary: Marc is sick but he doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die!But we don't always get what we want.
Relationships: Marc Anciel & Alix Kubdel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Original Female Character(s), Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Series: Rainbow Tomato [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623583
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	A Penny For A Thought Isn't Enough When You're Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know this may not happen in real life but like...i wanted to write gosh darnnit.

He was so tired all the time now. No matter how much sleep he got, no matter how much medicine he took, he was always tired and always sick. 

His throat was burning every time he swallowed. 

His eyes were tired and drooped, laced with fatigue that never went away. 

There was an 100 pound weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

His fever was steadily rising, making him overheat, but also causing him to shiver. 

His head was pounding and he felt like it was going to explode in any passing moment.

In other words he was in too much pain and agony to even think about having any energy. That was why he was currently laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, not writing or doing his homework like he should. 

Nobody at school knew he was sick...except Nathaniel and Alix that is. Marc was progressively getting worse and worse, and they noticed, but only really checked up on him when he never showed back up to school. 

They were with him now, Nathaniel sitting by his bedside and placing a wet rag onto his forehead and then Alix handing him some pills and a glass of water. 

Reluctantly he took them, wincing as it went down his throat. He placed the cup down on the table next to him and groaned, turning to the side. He curled up in a ball, mouth in a permanent grimace. 

Nathaniel's heart cried out, he hated seeing his boyfriend this sick. He had never seen him so hurt like this, and it made him want to scream and cry at the world. 

Why Marc? Why pick on Marc when there was Chloe or Lila?! Instead of saying all of that, however, he said nothing. The redhead simply leaned over and tucked some of Marc's loose hair behind his ear. 

"We should go, Marc," Alix said, as much as she didn't want to. "Me and Nathaniel have homework to do. We'll be in the living room if you need us." 

Marc nodded, too weak to even croak out an answer of any sort. The teens left, closing the door behind them. 

Marc's parents were at work all day everyday and only came home at night with barely anytime to check on their son, so any help at all made the writer grateful. 

He wished he was better, his thoughts were becoming more and more startling as his fever went up. He wasn't going to die was he? He didn't want too!

He had Nathaniel and the art club on Earth. He had the comic and works he wanted the world to see! He wanted to grow up and get a family and become a father...he wouldn't be able to do that if he was dead. 

The Anciel tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable when it was impossible. Everything was hazy, so that was why when he began to cough it smacked some sense into him. 

It wasn't like the others, it made him sit up and keel over, to place a hand on his chest with the pain that came along with it. He covered his mouth and shut his eyes tightly as he hacked, not having time to breath in between. 

Tremors shook his body as he finally stopped, yet he stayed in the position he was in. With a shaking hand Marc uncovered his mouth to find it was stained with some red liquid. He froze once he saw it. Blood. He was coughing up blood.

With only mild hesitance the teen threw his legs over the side of his bed, aiming to get up and call his friend and boyfriend. Yet...he couldn't do it. He had nothing in him that let him even stand up. 

Even if he was able to anyway he wouldn't be able too, as just then more coughs appeared, more violent then the last. Once again he leaned forward, falling onto his hands and knees on the ground with a thud. 

His lungs felt like they were being ripped apart at the seams and it caused nothing but agony.

The teen's door slammed open right then and in came Nathaniel, gasping once he saw Marc on the ground coughing up blood. Alix said nothing as she moved passed her friend-who wasn't able to do anything but stare in shock. She fell to the floor and scrambled for the rag that was once used on the others head.

She pressed it to his lips gently so to catch the blood and made him lean back so he was sitting up and against his bed, twisting her head around so that she was facing Nath with a pleading look in her eyes.   
  
"Call 112," she choked, trying to keep her tears from showing what she was feeling. When Nathaniel didn't move she tried again. "CALL 112, PLEASE NATH IT'S LIFE OR DEATH!" 

Speaking of life or death, all that was going through Marc's mind was ' _I'm going to die aren't I? This is it. I'm done for.'_

He fell to the side, not able to breathe, eyes getting blurry with tears he hoped wouldn't come. He closed his eyes, letting a few slip through and mix with the rag that was slowly getting stained with blood. He was screaming his throat more raw then it already was in the inside, but on the outside all he could do was cough. 

"Marc," came the voice of someone unfamiliar. It was raspy and rough, yet he was able to make out that the owner of the voice was only a teen. "It is time."

The writer in question opened his eyes as best as he could and noticed everything had become muffled and more blurry then before. There was someone standing in front of him, taking in most of his vision. 

She was tall, with platform boots that went up to her knees and added inches to her height. They were pitch black like most of her outfit, and they were crossed with leather straps and metal loops. From then on she wore ripped skinny jeans with fishnets underneath, along with a hastily tucked in black button up with silver buttons. She also adorned a long and lacy black cloak that went down to just passed her ankles and a large and over sized hood; white flowers were lining the bottom, and Marc would only describe them as something you see once in a lifetime, and then pray to see again. 

The teen herself had skin so pale she looked sickly, like Marc was then. Her left eye was black with no pupil, so it looked like a void with no end. The other was pure white, yet somehow the writer knew she was not blind. There was a long scar that started just over it, and then went down to the middle of her cheek, along with a patch of freckles littered over the bridge of her nose.

Her hair was one of the only parts of her that wasn't matte, yet a shiny silver. She had short bangs that were a little shorter on the right side and quickly came the littlest bit longer by the time it went to her other side. The mysterious girl also had shaved the part of her hair that was growing in front of her ear, but let the rest of it grow out to just above her shoulders with some of it up in a tiny ponytail that barely even counted as one. Not a piece of it was out of place, even the hair around her sharp and black devil like horns was neat.

To top it all off she wore a long midnight scarf around her neck that looked like a starry night sky, sharp claws painted the same color of the rest of her clothes, and the large scythe in her hands. 

The weapon was unique, as it didn't look like the normal one the grim reaper owned in illustrations of him. The handle was a little darker then her hair and was wrapped in, what looked like, red ribbon. At the bottom and top of it more of the shiny material was left to flow in the wind. Right in the middle of it was an hourglass filled with black sand, making it look like the handle was in two pieces, but the actual blade was something to marvel at. 

It was sharp enough to kill someone if they ever so touched the tip, and it had golden decals lining the top, like majestic mandalas. They all stemmed from the 3D skull that was on the handle, right on the other side of where the blade met it's handle. Marc would have loved to touch it, to wield it like it was his own, yet he wasn't able to. First he had to stop coughing, and second he needed to figure out who this girl was. 

"My name is Morana, and I am here to take you away from this place, Marc," she said, extending her hand, sounding professional yet bored, like she had uttered this same script over and over again. "Just take my hand and I can set you free." 

Through shuddering hacks the writer could hear Alix and Nathaniel cry out to him, begging him to stay alive. The teen reluctantly shook his head and Morana made a fed up noise. It was like she had a suspicion that this was going to happen, but severely hoped he wouldn't do so. 

She crouched down and sighed, staring into his eyes with nothing but pity, rolling her own at the red that was spread across his face because of his fever, and then the red dripping out of his mouth because of the blood. She booped him on the nose and stood back up, clutching her scythe and whipping around so it sliced cleanly through Marc's neck.

The teen in question flinched, and right away all the symptoms he was feeling before went away. The coughing stopped, his temperature went back to normal, his throat was better and he could breathe, head finished with it's pounding. He took a deep and gulping breath and coughed, this time it didn't start a fit and happened without blood.

Noticing his position, Marc hurriedly stood up, watching Morana take out a black pocket watch with silver and gold markings on it-the same pattern on the scythe. It was then, that it hit Marc what had happened.   
  


"You're the grim reaper," he muttered. The teen nodded. 

"Yup," she said, more focused on what was on the clock. 

"That-that means I'm dead. You killed me," he responded, a hand flying to his mouth in shock. 

"Right again, kid. You didn't want to go the easy way, so we had to go the hard way." 

Marc stared at his hands, realizing that both them and the rest of him was a pale blue. He choked and turned to Nathaniel and Alix, who were both at his body, meaning he was now a ghost. 

They were both openly sobbing, making Marc tear up as well. His knees locked and he fell to the ground, watching as both his friends-his _second_ _family_ \- held dead version of himself in their arms. It was then that the ambulance came, and they took over, pushing both the redhead and the skater aside. 

Marc stood and stumbled to where they were currently, hugging each other with free flowing tears. The boy wrapped his arms around them, but felt a pang in his heart when all he could do was void right through them; like they weren't even there. Instead, Alix and Nath only shivered a little and held each other tighter, like Marc was nothing but a simple wind that blew in via the open window. 

"No..." he whispered. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening! He still had so much to do, so much to accomplish, so much to learn and to say! Once again he fell to his knees, hands pressing against his eyes in an attempt to keep the liquid coming out of them to stop leaving tracks down his face. 

He flinched when a hand was suddenly on his shoulder, the claws slowly sinking into his jacket. 

"We have to go," Morana said, grim. "Get up, we have a long journey ahead of us." Marc glanced up at her, noticing that, even is she had on a "business" voice, she was a little sad for him. Maybe only the slightest, but sad nonetheless. 

"I don't want to leave them," he responded, weakly. The reaper sighed and gripped him by the upper arm, forcing him to stand up. 

"You already have," Morana plainly noted, pushing him towards a portal she created. It was a swirl of white and gray, glitter and black. It would've been beautiful to stand and stare at but now it only seemed depressing as that was the gate to a different world. 

"But if you move," she spat through clenched teeth. "We may be able to fix that." 

At that Marc perked up, pausing before stepping through the portal. He wiped his eyes and took one last look at his boyfriend and friend. He was going to see him again, he'll do anything to do so!

"I love you," he muttered. "See you soon..." 

He stepped right on through, wincing at how bright everything became. Back on the outside Morana sighed. 

"This isn't getting easier," she mumbled. "Let's hope he has a good heart...he's doomed if not." Taking a deep breath she followed, closing the portal behind her.

It was going to be a long trek back to life, and it wasn't going to be easy, but there was a part of her that believed he was going to be fine. She was going to be with him through it all...but that didn't mean he was automatically okay.

Although, there was still a possibility he was going to die permanently...but she didn't want to dwell on that. Too many bad memories. Right now, she had a job to do. 

Morana had a Marc to save. 

**Author's Note:**

> WOOPS NOW I HAVE A WHOLE PLOT LINE IDEA GODDAMMIT


End file.
